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Jaime had never really come around to define “friends”. It was a sort of word he would roll around his mouth, savouring the bitter taste, before spitting it back out.

There were only acquaintances. It was always about the connection and the circumstances. He knew if it wasn’t for More, he would still be a nobody. He was lucky to be quartered with Reed More and therefore knew more things than others. More was a motormouth, simple-minded boy that master the arts of making friends and whores and filthy money, a boy that Jaime found repulsive only less than too-sweet coffee.

Within a few months, it was a truth universally accepted across the whole boy Dorm that More’s mouth was a divine place that could do more than charm people in debates and begged people to let him copy their Math homework. Nonetheless, More’s willingness relieve people of their sexual tension didn’t mean he was shield from the whole bloodshed drama between boys determined to show their spine. In fact, he became more vulnerable. Boys are essentially children, possessive and petty-minded, their toys are subjected to their cute doting as much as their violent fits. They thought their money meant they owned the toys, and automatically gave them free reign. On one hand, More had to fend off the label “whore”, while on the other had to prove himself to the impatient one-night-stand hookers. But, he survived.

In trade for purple bruises and a somewhat-tarnished reputation, More scrambled for something more valuable: confessions.

What people slipped out during the sacred moment of euphoria was a prolific ground for rumours. Knowing unknown secrets give you a kind of power you could never conceive of.

If More knows the rumours, he can also spread be the one who spreads the rumours.

Jaime was well aware More found small thrill upon preying poor souls. More was definitely not a pacifist. As long as he detected no palpable danger in near future, and as long as he was tipped off nicely one way or another, More would be willing to play along any game for the sake of it.

The first transaction between them, which officially tied them as “friends” according to More, was to plot Austin’s downfall. Jaime forked over the standard charge of three pounds for every time More spread his legs for Austin and batter himself in the washroom, and an extra of five pounds when they received the news that Austin was called to the office. “Legal officers” came around to escort More for body examination and interrogated Austin’s clueless friends, who helpfully vouched that More and Austin had been hooking up for real for a while now.

It was a bloody costly business, but it was totally worth it to send the fucker down the gutter. Jaime didn’t expect Austin to be expelled, but since the Headmaster had him suspended for a semester, he had mourned at his decision to not plant extra fuck-you Easter Eggs under Austin’s bunk.

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It was after the Spring Break that Austin came back from Seattle.

Jaime had watched from darkened windows and corridors, watched Austin’s set jaws worked back and forth as he plowed through the school ground, shouldering on the dagger stares stamping his way. Jaime was surprised the first thing Austin did wasn’t to storm Jaime and More’s room. Instead, he baited his time. Austin slipped in quietly after the supper—Jaime had just headed back to his room alone, while More would still be dawdling down in the Mess for another hour. Jaime was stripping out of his shirt, half-naked with only his boxer to cover his manhood, when Austin slithered in, shut the door in a calm demeanour.

“There’s a term for people like you.” Austin drawled. “A psychopath.”

Jaime snorted. He turned, rummaging through his trunk while speaking over his shoulder. “Better than a rapist, I think. Oh, wait, no,” He paused, straightened, unfolded a clean cotton shirt. “I believe what the Headmaster said was ‘an abusive boyfriend.’”

Austin was huffing like a ready-to-charge bull. Electricity cracked between them, and both of them circled the other with a calculating squint. A muscle near Austin’s eye jumped. He chewed the syllables out. “How much did you paid Reed, Kenneth? Twenty, thirty, forty pound?”

Jaime jeered, looking at Austin with a half-eye. “Don’t be so vain. More’s an idiot, but why would he lower himself for some money, especially if that mean he had to go out and let a a sadistic dick like you fuck him dead?”

In a flash, Austin was across the room, crooked fingers merely inches from wounding around Jaime’s neck. “I’ve never lay a hand on him.” He hissed. “More’s everybody’s whore. He could have literally get those marks from anyone.”

“But he didn’t. He was with you for the whole month.” Jaime snarled, a twisted smug. His hands shot up and clamped on either sides of Austin’s head, their faces one breath apart. “One thing your dead Mum did not tell you about true journalism is that there will be some prices await. You die along the way. Cheap, compared to the value of truth you can dig up."

Austin springed. Jaime had anticipated this, still he barely had enough time to thrust his arms in front of him to push Austin back. They both had similar build and weight, however Austin had vengeance fueling his attack and managed to back Jaime until they both wringing against the wall, arms and legs and elbows jabbing in all direction. Spittle flew from their bare teeth.

“Did you kill my Mum?” Austin yelled. Jaime managed a menace sneered, the veins on his temple popped at the sharp pain on his forearms when Austin’s blunt fingernails broke through the skin. Austin leaned in. “Who kill my Mum?”

“Karma.” Jaime ground out, heaving under Austin’s grip. Austin’s nostrils flared. The heat between them was pulsing as their lungs competed to draw in oxygen. Austin screamed, winded his fist back, and Jaime braced himself. The feeling of bones smashed against bones reverberated through his skull, the lateral cartilages cracked audibly. He vaguely registered stumbling over, touching his nose and drew back to blood. His fingers tingled, awaken to the fighting instinct he thought he had long shed. His old scars stung hard enough to dull the pain throbbing from his broken nose, and he recalled the street gravel biting in his palms with a great clarity.

Austin pulled back, only to pounce on Jaime once more. Jaime spat and tackled Austin’s mid-section, slugging his solar plexus with enough force for Austin’s eyes to flutter to the edge of blackout. They tumbled onto More’s bunk, with Austin’s torso half-hanging off the long edge. Jaime pulled himself up, snarling, pinning Austin’s arms underneath his kneecaps. Austin’s bucked and bucked for leverage. Jaime gripped a handful of Austin’s dirty dishwasher fair hair and forced Austin’s bruised face tilted upward.

Austin spat at Jaime, snapping his teeth. “You’re no better than your father.”

Jaime’s facial muscles involuntary twitched around the pile of saliva dripping from his face. A slow smile stiffly spreaded across his lips. Austin glared at him, continued to struggled until Jaime tore a chunk of his locks out. “I’ve been doing some research on my own.” Austin’s scream was finally followed by a wordless obedience. “Interesting, what I scouted about you. One would also say you’re no better than your mother, but that’s a lie of itself since you’re not even of your mother at all.”

Austin whimpered. Jaime pulled the hem of Austin’s shirt up and slowly wiped his face, words slipping out of his mouth in a soft, dangerous hush. “Look at you. A student failure. A game-addicted. A rapist. An abusive boyfriend. An angry, sad, but irresponsible and passive stupid boy. And a next-to-be Reggie Rat. You’re high, and cannot think straight, and started attacking me. Hey, did you know mental illness is a genetic disease? I believed your father suffered Schizoaffective Disorder and killed himself at some point, right?”

Blood drained from Austin’s face. Jaime loomed above him, feeling his mouth involuntarily drew in an half-arch.

Without preamble, Jaime balled both of his fists together, swung his arms above his head. Austin scrambled to duck his head between his shoulder blades, but the multiple hammer-like hits broke his nose cartilage, some blood vessels and knocked him out.

After that fight, Jaime did not know what happened to Austin. Only that apparently, Austin had ventured in the yard during a rainfall, cracked his head open on a hard stone when he fell, and the Headmaster had manipulated and covered up the accident. Though, what was the truth behind the rumour, none would find out.